


Sleeping in the Fire

by SonjaJade



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Assassination, Descent into Madness, F/M, Gen, Murder, One-Sided Attraction, Sorcerers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-20
Updated: 2015-11-20
Packaged: 2018-05-02 13:20:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5249636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonjaJade/pseuds/SonjaJade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Young Roy Mustang travels to the city of Bolton, where a Gen. Raven governs over the citizens.  In exchange for saving his life with a kind of magic that can only be taught by skilled sorcerers, Gen. Raven promises to do what he can to get Roy apprenticed to his personal magician, Berthold Hawkeye.  While at first, it appears that Master Hawkeye doesn't care much for Roy, that all changes once he proves his intentions by dedicating himself to his studies and mastering the art of sorcery.  When Master Kimblee, the King's personal magician and overseer of the Journeyman level sorcerers, comes to collect any philosopher's stones Master Hawkeye may have, Roy is insulted by his behavior and casts a spell on him.  Things go quickly downhill for the entire household after that.  What happens afterward will chill your blood and break your heart.  Find out what happens when magic is used for both good and evil, and why you should always leave the dead in their graves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my betas, [cornerofmadness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cornerofmadness/pseuds/Cornerofmadness) and [Bay](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Bay/pseuds/Bay), and my amazing artist [ HitenTenshi](http://hitantenshi.deviantart.com/)!!

The carriage ride to Bolton had been bumpy and uneventful. It was mostly beautiful countryside with cows lowing in their pastures and friendly farmers waving, but when they got to the town gates, Roy’s breath caught at the stone castle standing in the city’s center- their destination- as it shone tall and enormous in the light of early evening. Though New Optain compared in size to Bolton, they were a free city and had an elected mayor versus a nobleman who answered directly to the king of Amestris- King Bradley. The streets were cobbled and the store fronts gleaming and clean as they wove through the avenues, and Roy couldn’t help but wonder how bright his future would be in a town like this versus the tame, dirt paths of New Optain.

The gates that guarded the castle were hand worked iron, as smooth as polished onyx. When they opened, the horses pulled them off of the cobblestone road and onto a tiled drive that led right to the ornate concrete staircase. Once finally arriving at Rhyre Keep, a slew of servants rushed to assist him and his aunt from the carriage and into the castle, showing them to the rooms they would be staying in for the night, then fed them in the fortress’ private courtyard.

Roy looked out of the window when they retired for the evening, looking out over the west side of Bolton as the sun dropped below the horizon. He could scent home fires burning and hear music faintly on the breeze, no doubt coming from a tavern that was probably very similar to where he was raised. His thoughts wandered over the day’s journey.

“Wonder why General Raven didn’t personally greet us,” he commented. “Is he too important to talk to free city folk? Didn’t seem that way when he showed up at our doorstep…”

“Hush up, Roy,” his aunt hissed. “He’s doing us both a _huge_ favor. The least you could do is show him some damn respect. Besides, he’s a busy man. We’re lucky to be able to meet with him at all.” She puffed on a hand rolled cigarette while sitting on the side of the silken bed, blowing the smoke toward the ceiling. “We should get some sleep. We’ll be meeting with Master Hawkeye in the morning and we don’t want him to think you’re a poorly rested child.” She went on to mutter something about she’d hoped he would have been a little more mature at seventeen than at seven.

“I’m not coming to bed until you put that thing out,” he muttered, crossing his arms.

She narrowed her eyes at him, took one last drag and flipped it effortlessly into the fireplace. “There. Now get your ass into bed. And I pray you don’t talk to _Hawkeye_ that way, else he might turn you into a chamber pot!”

He closed the window and climbed in beside her in the enormous bed (seriously, who needed a bed that was at least five people wide and as long as two tall men on each other’s shoulders?), and stared at the rafters. They were quiet a long time, and then Aunt Chris spoke.

“You know, if you play your cards right, you could marry into the family. I hear Hawkeye has a daughter.”

Roy scoffed and turned over to his side. “I’ve seen pictures of Master Hawkeye. If the poor girl looks anything like him she won’t be marrying anyone but the nearest blind man.”

“It’s the plain ones that are often smarter and kinder, Roy. I’m no beauty myself, remember.” She started chuckling. “Besides, as handsome as you are, you’ll balance out how the children will look!”

“You old bat, I’m trying to sleep!”

With a final guffaw, she bid him goodnight, and at last Roy was left to worry about the meeting in the morning until well after the clock tower chimed midnight.

The next morning, Roy sat ramrod stiff beside his aunt, both of them dressed in the finest clothes they owned. Aunt Chris was grinning like the cat who’d caught the canary, likely because she had a ‘private meeting’ with General Raven before breakfast. Roy knew what those sessions entailed, and he was certain now that his apprenticeship was no longer something that Master Hawkeye could negotiate out of. That was good news for Roy’s studies, bad news for his imagination, as it was flooded with the mental pictures of his aunt and Raven ‘privately meeting’ with one another. His stomach was in knots as it was; he didn’t need the nausea from his mind’s eye complicating things.

To their left sat the general himself, a gray bearded man with twinkling eyes and a barrel chest decorated with medals that were no doubt earned by trading cash between war financiers than blows on the battlefield. The injuries he sustained the night he happened on Aunt Chris’ saloon were in line with a man who didn’t know how to fight with a sabre. Those medals had to represent how many people he’d used others to kill on his command, not how many he himself dealt the final blow to. And across from their host sat one of the brightest sorcerers in the eastern territories- Master Berthold Hawkeye.

“Master Hawkeye, the reason I summoned you here today is because I’ve been asked by Madam Mustang to find a skilled sorcerer to apprentice her foster son.” He sipped at freshly steeped tea, grinning at his personal magician. “And as you’re the best one around for over two hundred wheels, I am placing the boy in your care.”

Master Hawkeye frowned. “General, I can’t support another mouth to feed as it is,” he said as cleared his throat. He looked at Roy and his mouth went dry with fear. “While I’m sure your boy has talent Madam, I don’t want him to starve, either.”

Raven nodded and sat his tea down. “Master Hawkeye, allow me to explain something to you. Madam Mustang saved my life not two months ago, when I stumbled wounded and lost into her tavern in New Optain. She washed my bloodied body, had the barmaids and this boy look after me until I’d healed enough to return here to Bolton. When I asked what I could do in return, she didn’t ask for anything for herself, only asked that I find young Roy a sorcerer to take him on as an apprentice. And he _does_ have talent,” he commented, pushing his sleeve up a bit to reveal a dark red and jagged scar running from his thumb up to nearly his elbow.

“Berthold, he _healed this_. It went down to the bone and he _healed me_. I want you to hone his talents, shape him into an unprecedented prodigy. I know you can do it- and I don’t expect you to do it for free.”

Aunt Chris spoke then. “I don’t expect you to it for free either, Master Hawkeye. I’m a business owner- I know everything has a price. Name yours and I’ll make sure you get it.”

The haggard looking man seemed surprised that he was going to be paid for the inconvenience, as if maybe he’d been screwed over his entire life when it came to matters of finance. “Forgive me, but in the interest of ensuring the funds will be worth my time… Just how much are we talking about, here?”

General Raven reached into his jacket and sat a sack of coins down in front of the sorcerer that was as big around as a cantaloupe- easily a small fortune to someone who reportedly lived in a dilapidated house on the outer edge of Bolton and worried about an additional person starving to death.

“This is for the first month. If he stays on, I’ll give you another just like it. When he reaches journeyman level, I’ll increase it.”

Aunt Chris leaned forward and placed a smaller bag of coins beside it. “Think of this as a bonus to get him started. His parents died when he was very young from the cotton lung about ten years ago. This is all that was left from selling off the property and possessions- take it as their thanks.”

Master Hawkeye rubbed at his chin in thought. Roy could almost hear the battle going on in the man’s head as he seemed to be weighing the benefits and disadvantages of taking him on at all. Not that Raven would let him refuse to do it, but what if once he was under Hawkeye’s care the sorcerer didn’t teach him anything after all? What if he took the money and killed him in his sleep or something? Before Roy could let himself panic any further about the ‘what ifs’, he decided to make a case for himself.

“Master Hawkeye, sir,” Roy said firmly. “I want to assure you that I’m serious about my studies. I’m not entering into this agreement with the idea that I’ll immediately become as great a sorcerer as you. I know there’s going to be lots of practicing and hard work involved for me to come even close to your level of expertise. I’m very willing to work for my education-”

“Flattery’s nothing but horse dung that drops into your ears rather on the ground,” Hawkeye answered. “Best to leave horse dung where it belongs- in the garden.”

“Then how would you prefer for my boy to show his respect for you?” Aunt Chris asked, that sly little grin never falling from her face.

“He can start by listening more and talking less. The mind only opens up when the mouth shuts completely.” He stood, taking both sacks of coins and putting them into his coat pockets. “I will apprentice him. But I’m warning you all now- if he touches my daughter, I _will_ kill him.”

Roy swallowed. “Master Hawkeye, I have no intentions of touching your daughter, sir.”

“You forget I was a young man once too, Mr. Mustang. I know you’re going to say whatever it is you think I want to hear in order to assuage my fears.” He leveled his gaze at Roy and he swore his heart stopped beating for a moment. “But I know boys. They’re all liars until they feel pain. And if you touch her, you will know pain very personally.” His eyes were intense as he glared back at him. “Am I perfectly clear on this subject?”

Roy quickly nodded. “Absolutely, sir.”

“Though he was raised in a tavern, I assure you my son has manners, Master Hawkeye. So long as he has your permission to go into town and seek the comfort of a woman from time to time, I’m sure you’ll have nothing to fret about as far as your daughter is concerned. After all, he’s coming to you because you’re the best sorcerer in the area- not to steal young Miss Hawkeye away from you.”

“Studies first, pleasures later. Grab your things, Mr. Mustang. We’ll be departing shortly.” He turned to General Raven as the servants brought his trunk down from the guest room. “I’ll give you my assessment of him in a week. Is there anything in particular you want him to know, General?”

General Raven smiled at him. “No, not at this time, Berthold. See to it that he gets a proper education, that’s all I ask.”

He gave a curt bow and left the room, Roy scrambling to catch up to him.

“We’ll begin everyday with chores when the cock crows. Afterward we’ll eat breakfast, then wash up the dishes, and then we’ll move on to speech lessons. This will take up the rest of the day, then we will have dinner at dusk. You will take a quick bath every night before bed, and spend the rest of the night reading. Do you have any complaints?” he asked as they made their way down the steps, Roy laboriously dragging the trunk down as they went.

“No, sir. But may I ask what the speech lessons are for?” Damn, what did he stuff in this trunk anyway? Why the hell was it so heavy?

He almost ran into Master Hawkeye when he suddenly stopped. He glanced over Roy’s shoulder and extended his hand, his finger making an array in the air. “Feyah ‘Ter Laa’t,” he spoke calmly, and all at once the trunk Roy was tugging along seemed to weigh absolutely nothing at all. Bewildered, Roy looked back to Master Hawkeye, about to ask him what spell he’d used when he was interrupted.

“That spell reads ‘Feather Light’ in any codex you find it in. But unless you speak the words in the old tongue, nothing’s going to happen. You’ll learn to speak the spells before you learn the spells themselves, and trust me when I say most of them are not that simple.”

He spun on his heel and began to walk quickly once more. Now relieved of the weight of his trunk, Roy was able to keep up easily as they wound through the busy streets of Bolton. “When we get to my home, you’re going to think that I’m insane, and anyone who learns you’re staying with me with soon think the same of you. But I assure you, it’s a normal home, no matter what the citizens of Bolton whisper behind our backs.”

“Yes, sir,” Roy answered, suddenly afraid he’d made the wrong decision in not taking up accountancy from his aunt. What kind of a place was he going to that needed a warning before he entered inside? For the moment though, he had to be sure he kept up with Master Hawkeye, whose long strides and swift pace made it difficult to keep up to him, and Roy sure as hell didn’t want to get lost.

The stores and houses began to get more spread out as they continued on toward the sorcerer’s home. The cobblestones stopped and a dirt road began, and still they walked on. After about half an hour, it appeared that they’d left civilization altogether. Roy wanted to ask how much further it would be, but he was panting so hard that he couldn’t manage it. A few minutes later and he had his answer anyway, as the broken and dilapidated house loomed in the distance.

“We’re nearly there. Don’t pass out on me, I’ll leave you where you fall,” Master Hawkeye commented as they cut through a field of wildflowers. Roy wondered if that would be a kinder fate as he got an increasingly better look at the house they were approaching.

The shutters were broken and had peeling paint in many places. The wooden parts of the home looked rotten and ready to fall down, the mortar in the stone parts looked molded and chipping away. The thatched roof had places that were in dire need of repair, the clay gutters broken to the point of uselessness, and the water pump looked rusted solid.

The small vegetable garden on the other hand looked well-kept and seemed to be flourishing despite the shade in which it was growing, and the rose bushes near the front door were more beautiful and hardy than those he saw in the courtyard at Rhyre Keep. Perhaps it wouldn’t be the atrocity he’d made it out to be in his mind. After all, the glass in the leaded windows seemed clear and sparkling, even if the rest of the exterior desperately needed maintenance.

At last, Master Hawkeye slowed down a little, and Roy relished the break and took a moment to ease the ache from the stitch in his side. The sorcerer touched the doorknob and spoke a spell Roy didn’t hear over the sound of his panting breath, and the knob turned on its own, allowing them entrance to the poor house.

Once inside, Roy was flabbergasted. The walls were covered in fine damask wallpaper, brightly woven rugs rested on polished wooden floors, a tufted chair sat near the fireplace- also immaculately clean and stocked with perfectly chopped logs. There was a dining table made of what appeared to be a solid piece of petrified wood, surrounded by six hand carved ladder back chairs, a large iron cook stove and a brand new cold pantry, and several doors off from the parlor that Roy assumed led to a study, the upstairs bedrooms and hopefully an honest-to-goodness bathroom with running water.

“As I said,” Master Hawkeye began as he took off his coat and hung it on a peg by the door, “people will call you all manner of mean things if they know you’re staying here. But as you can see, they have no idea what is on the _inside_.” He turned to Roy. “You are never to tell anyone about the inside of this house, do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir!” Roy quickly answered. “I won’t tell anyone!”

Master Hawkeye nodded. “I can tell you’re curious as to why I would ask such a thing. Perhaps if I show you, it’ll become clearer to you.”

He instructed Roy to stay where he was as Hawkeye went outside the front door. He tugged it closed behind him, then rang the bell. As soon as the bell rang, the interior of the parlor changed, as if a shadow had cast itself on every surface and transformed cozy comfort into an illusion just as grotesque as the outside of the house appeared to be. When the sorcerer entered again, he told Roy the reason for such a deception.

“The land that this house sits on is very valuable, but because this house appears to be an eyesore, I pay very little in taxes on it. If they knew it was in better shape, I would be paying money I don’t have to people who don’t need it. The deception levels the playing field for me and my daughter. It also helps keep unwanted visitors away, and those who are brave enough to come see me, are greeted with this version of my home instead of the one we who live here enjoy.” He waved his hand and said, “Good riddance!” and the home became as bright and cheerful as it had been when Roy first stepped inside, and he couldn’t help a smile at the spell’s construction.

“It’s brilliant that the spell is activated by the doorbell and deactivated by such a phrase. I never would have thought to set it up that way, but it makes perfect sense to.”

For the first time since meeting the man, he smiled in return. “I’m glad my prowess meets the approval of a lad who can only perform one healing spell.”

Roy felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I haven’t had the opportunity to see very many practical spells in person. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

Master Hawkeye shook his head. “The first lesson I’m going to teach you is this: talk less, observe more. You can’t offend someone with your thoughtless words if you don’t utter them in the first place.”

Roy didn’t hang his head, instead he looked his new teacher in the eye and responded, “Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir.”

“All’s well, then. Let me show you to your room and then we can go to my study and begin the speech lessons.” Just as he was about to lead Roy upstairs, a door opened and a lovely young lady stepped out. She was about the same height as Roy, short cropped gold hair, big brown eyes and wearing working clothes- a plain, pale blue blouse, a dark brown skirt that fell below her knees, and a stained apron. She was carrying a basket of laundry and paused to talk to Master Hawkeye.

“I gathered up all the linens and beat the rugs while you were out, father. I’m going to start on dinner soon, will your guest be joining us?”

Wait, this beautiful girl was _Miss Hawkeye?_ He was expecting someone with a long face and sunken eyes like the man he was now apprenticed to, not this pretty girl in servant’s clothes.

 

“Riza, this is my new apprentice. He’ll be staying indefinitely with us while I train him, so yes- he’ll be joining us.” He glared at Roy, reminding him wordlessly about his threat to kill him if he ever touched his daughter. “This is Mr. Roy Mustang. Apparently he saved Raven’s life with a spell and now I’m being paid to teach him. Mr. Mustang, this is my daughter, Riza.”

Her eyes met his and she curtseyed toward him. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Mustang.”

Roy bowed toward her slightly. “The honor is mine, I assure you, Miss Hawkeye.”

The old sorcerer narrowed his eyes at both of them. “Do I need to remind you of our agreement, Mr. Mustang?”

Roy swallowed and shook his head vigorously. “No, sir.”

“Riza, you and I will speak in a moment. Mr. Mustang, follow me.”

Roy grabbed his trunk and followed Master Hawkeye through the door Riza had just come from and ascended a flight of stairs. The hallway was done up in the same gold colored wallpaper as below, a warm wainscoting half-way up the walls to balance out everything. The very last door on the right was the one Master Hawkeye opened for him.

“Lie down on the bed.”

Roy’s eyes flicked toward the old man. “I beg your pardon?”

“Lie down on the bed,” he repeated, his hand pushing him into the room. “I didn’t ask you to take your clothes off, just lie down.”

Roy nervously moved past Hawkeye and entered the room. It was painted simply, a warm cream color with more plush rugs on the floor, like the rest of the house. The furniture was nicer than even his aunt’s, who had an antique bedroom suit that had once belonged to his great-grandparents. Roy climbed onto the bed, a thing surrounded by a four poster frame and a canopy. The cotton bedding was luxurious, soft, and smelled of spring flowers. As he lay back, trembling, he watched his master draw an array in the air, chanting some kind of magic words in that strange language Roy wasn’t familiar with yet.

“I’ve placed a spell on this bed that will let me know if you ever lie upon it with another person. If you should ever do such a thing…” Hawkeye pointed to the posts on the bed frame. “These will turn into battleaxes and crash down, killing only you.”

Roy sat up. “Master Hawkeye, I swear to you, I’m not going to touch your daughter! How can I prove to you that I mean it?” For crying out loud, was he going to put traps _everywhere_ in the house?

Hawkeye folded his arms across his chest. “By putting all of your effort into your studies. If you progress quickly through the lessons, I’ll know you’re sincere. If your pace ever slows and you’re not actively asking me questions, I’ll know you’re distracted by her beauty. And even if you don’t touch her, I’ll know the desire to is there.” He gave him the coins that Aunt Chris added to the price of his apprenticeship from General Raven. “And if you feel the need to lie with a whore, then use the last of your parents’ estate to pay for it. I’m sure they won’t think it’s disrespectful in the least.”

He turned and walked away, reminding him as he left that there were more important things in the world to discover than the feel of a lovely woman’s body wrapped around him. “Dinner will be ready in about an hour.” And with that, he closed the door and left Roy on his own.

His mind was already whirring about how to break the spell on his bed, not because he planned on sleeping with Miss Riza already, but because he didn’t want to die. What if he sat something heavy on the bed and he sat down next to it? Would the spell know the difference between a human’s weight versus an object’s weight? Besides, if he really wanted to work around the spell, should Riza even find him desirable, _she_ could lie on the bed and he could touch her with his fingers or his mouth, or she could kneel on the edge and he could take her from behind- plenty of ways around such a ridiculous spell.

“ _He must know only one way to do it,_ ” he thought to himself as he set about unpacking his trunk.

An hour later, he found himself afraid to even look either of them in the face. When Riza poured him a cup of water, he thanked her quietly as he glanced down at her shoes. Even her ankles were attractive. It didn’t matter anyway, none of them spoke once dinner was served. Afterward, Master Hawkeye ordered Roy to the sink to wash and dry the dishes while he and Riza talked for a moment in his study. Only then did he raise his head to look around the small kitchen.

It was spotless, organized, every bit as perfect as the girl who kept it so clean in the first place. That’s when he decided something. The best way to please Master Hawkeye was to show dedication to his studies, which included his chores. The best way to show his appreciation to Riza was to do as good a job of keeping house as she had been doing all this time. Maybe in time he’d be able to prove that he was worthy of being able to speak to her, but for now, he needed to worry more about impressing his master if he wanted to someday gain the privilege of being left alone with her, even if it was just to talk.

That night, after he’d bathed (in an enormous tub with real running water!), he lay in his new bed reading the first tome Master Hawkeye decided would be best to begin with. The pages were old and brittle, but they’d been enchanted to keep from decaying even further. And though the words were old fashioned and written in a roundabout way, Roy was able to take notes and make it easier to understand the core elements. As he read through the dull words, he thought briefly about writing a book himself when he became a master, something more interesting and easier to read. He wondered how much his life would change by that point in his magical career, wondered if he’d be summoned to serve under Raven or maybe even the King. Roy sighed as he wrangled his wandering thoughts and got back to reading, knowing that his mastership would never come if he didn’t work through the boring parts first.

Just as he was getting back into the pages, there came a knock on his door and he put the book aside to open it. There stood Riza, in a well-loved nightgown that nearly reached the floor. She frowned at him and Roy wondered how on earth he’d managed to so thoroughly offend her.

“I just wanted to let you know that father will be coming to bed soon and he’ll expect to see your lamp out.”

“Oh!” Roy breathed, relieved that she hadn’t come up to berate him for how he washed the dishes. “Thank you for telling me! Um… Is he always so scary?”

Her expression eased some. “No, not usually. He’s just very protective of me, especially,” she said with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, “when handsome young men come around.”

Oh. Oh no. It was a _mutual attraction_.

This girl…

Riza Hawkeye was going to be the death of him.

She glanced over her shoulder. “He’s leaving his study now. Blow out the lamp and I’ll see you in the morning.” She walked to where her own bedroom door was and entered the room almost silently, then Roy heard the sound of his Master’s footsteps coming up the steps. He shut the door as quietly as he could, then raced to the oil lamp.

As Riza predicted, he came to stand in front of his door a moment, then he walked away, presumably satisfied that his lamp was out. Then he must’ve gone to Riza’s room because he could hear their voices muffled as they spoke.

“Goodnight, dear. Sleep well,” he said as he reentered the hallway, then moved down to where his own bedroom sat-

And it was the room right next to Roy’s.

There went the idea that he could let his imagination take him to new places with the girl across the hall. If he should accidentally call her name in a hushed whisper as he imagined his hand being a more specific organ on _her_ body, he’d be killed through the plaster. So far his apprenticeship was shaping up to be the most difficult practice in self-control he’d ever had to endure.

 _“I’ll just have to get really good, really fast,”_ he resolved as he pulled the covers over his head. He took himself in hand, clasped his other hand over his mouth, and coaxed himself back into a more relaxed state of body and mind. After cleaning up his mess, he fell asleep, and to his relief, his dreams were more focused on the reading he’d done than the girl across the hall.

* * *

 

 

Early summer passed into fall, then into winter, and back again to spring. In that first year Roy spent with the Hawkeye family, he learned so much- about sorcery, himself, and the family he was staying with. As far as his studies, his ability to speak the language of the spells improved to the point that he was able to hold conversations with his Master in that tongue alone at times. He read and took notes over every book Master Hawkeye gave him to read, asked logical questions and developed a professional rapport with his intimidating master that he didn’t feel was possible when he first came to the Hawkeye homestead. And because he was taking the work seriously, Master Hawkeye had at last begun to take him seriously, as well. Time and again, he proved himself to be a worthy student, and finally he was getting some respect in return.

During the winter, his master thought he was ready to attempt some new spells (thankfully they’d begun with the two spells he already knew, ‘Corpus Omniscience’ and ‘Invocation of Invigoration’, which only required a simple array drawn directly on the skin of the person needing care). The first spell his master taught him was ‘Fleet of Foot’, in order to help him get to and from Bolton during the colder months. The more he demonstrated proper use of his spells, the more spells he was given to learn. Now at the beginning of spring, he was up to over a hundred different spells he could cast and remove at will. His dedication was paying off at last, and Hawkeye had told him he expected Roy to be entering his journeyman’s phase by the end of summer.

At dinner one night, his master said to him, “Mr. Mustang, I have to admit that when you first came to stay with us I assumed you’d give up and quit after finding out how hard of a teacher I am to deal with. I’m glad you’ve proven your worth as a student and as a man by keeping your word and excelling at the work I give you.”

Roy bowed his head. “Thank you, sir. I do my best to accomplish everything you ask of me.”

Hawkeye nodded, going back to cutting up the slice of beef on his plate. “I’m aware. And you’ve honored my requests concerning Riza as well. To me, that proves your honor more than anything else I’ve asked of you.”

Roy wondered if he would change his mind if he knew how many times he went to bed thinking of her, or how many he times he touched himself while thinking of touching her. “Thank you, sir.”

Riza looked up when her father’s hand rested on top of hers at the dinner table, and Roy wondered what she looked so panicked for.

“I’ve decided that if you make it to Master, I’ll let you marry her.”

Roy’s jaw stopped chewing and his eyes opened wide as saucers. “Marry Miss Riza?” he asked.

His master smiled at him, a first. “Of course. But you have to finish your studies first, and you’ll need to come up with a spell of your own to demonstrate to the King’s sorcerer in order to obtain the title of master.” He looked to Riza, who was furiously blushing. “And you’ll have to _ask_ if Riza even wants to do it.”

“I do,” came her quiet reply.

Roy’s stomach churned with anxiety. He couldn’t wait to finish his spell work now, couldn’t wait to begin his travelling years so he could come back to the outskirts of Bolton- and do just as his aunt had said when he first arrived at Rhyre Keep last summer, and take Miss Hawkeye for his wife.

“Master,” he began carefully, “I have never been more honored in my life. You have my word that I will complete my education with you and take Miss Riza as my bride. I’ll spend the rest of my life making her as happy as I can.”

With a content sigh, Master Hawkeye went back to his dinner. “Then it’s settled. The two of you are promised to one another. Just remember, Mr. Mustang-” he said as he glanced over at Roy, “the spell on your bed is still active, and her doorway will not even allow you to enter.”

Ah. “I wouldn’t dare risk my life for a moment of pleasure when in only a few years I can be by her side forever.”

“And I was once a young man, too. I can hear the gears whirring in your head already, trying to figure out another way to be alone with her.” He chuckled. “It’s much the same situation I was in when I met Riza’s mother. I said all the right words, made all the right gestures and kept my hands to myself, but in my head I was already with her in her bed, naked as jaybirds and exploring every inch of her with my lips.”

Roy’s face felt as red as Riza’s looked in the long stretch of awkward silence that filled the room. Master Hawkeye seemed to be in a daze, but when he came out of it he laughed all the harder. “Seems you may not be alone in your fantasies, Mr. Mustang! Better double your efforts to get through your training so you can marry her as soon as possible!”

“Yes, sir,” he said firmly as he looked across the table at his intended. Her lips curled into the gentlest of smiles, and her big brown eyes looked more alive than he’d ever seen them. Roy felt as if he could float right out of his chair and soar the heavens knowing that one day he wouldn’t have to worry about what his master thought about his intentions with his daughter, that they’d one day have a house of their own, children, and hopefully very many years together.

“Thank you for saying yes, Miss Riza.”

“Thank my father for his blessing,” she said, turning to face Master Hawkeye.

They both thanked him, and then the room suddenly went dark and dreary as the doorbell rang shrilly through the parlor.

“Damn,” Hawkeye hissed as he got to his feet. He handed his plate to Riza. “Put it up in the oven, let me see who it is.”

As Roy and Riza scrambled to hide their not-so-meager supper, Master Hawkeye went to the door and opened it, greeting whoever had come. Roy took a moment to whisper to his betrothed while his master was distracted.

“Incredible luck, right my lady?”

She took his hand and squeezed it. “I’ll slip you a note under the door after midnight.” With that, she scurried upstairs and left Roy to join his master in the now run down looking parlor.

The man who’d come was very handsome, high-born looking judging by his clothes, and had an air of smugness about him. Master Hawkeye introduced them with an irritated scowl.

“This is my apprentice, Roy Mustang. Mr. Mustang, This is Master Zolf Kimblee, he serves the Grand Master in King Bradley’s court.”

Kimblee stood, his long black ponytail draped over the shoulder of his fine velvet cape. He gave Roy a short bow, grinning like a mad man. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Mr. Mustang. For the son of a tavern owner, you’re doing quite well for yourself here under Master Hawkeye.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Master Kimblee. And yes- low born as I am, I aspire to great heights with Master Hawkeye’s guidance.” He didn’t like this man. Something about the way he wove his words so artfully yet so rudely, grated on Roy’s nerves…

“I’ll be the person you’ll report to when it’s time to take your journeyman’s assessment, and then Grand Master Hohenheim will be who gives the final exam on your spell mastery and reviews the spell you create.”

“That’s good information to have. Thank you, Master Kimblee.”

Kimblee turned his attention back to Master Hawkeye. “Anyway, Berthold, I came because I was sent to gather as many philosopher stones as possible, and if I recall you have two of them.” At that moment, he slapped his knee. “Oh that’s right! You’ve only got one now! Didn’t you try to resurrect your dead wife with one and ended up shattering it?”

Master Hawkeye snarled, “I don’t have any. You can be on your way now, Master Kimblee.”

Kimblee began to laugh, but Roy found nothing funny at all about the man mocking the death of a loved one. “Don’t tell me!” he gasped between his peals of laughter. “Don’t tell me you used _both_ of them on poor, dead Elizabeth!” When Master Hawkeye continued to glare at him, he cried as he laughed.

“My heavens, you _did!_ You really used them both up trying to save her!” He stood up from the sofa, wiping at his eyes as he fought to get his tears under control. “Such a fool! Everyone knows you can’t resurrect the dead- no matter how skilled in sorcery you are! And now you’re training another fool!” He broke into laughter again, commenting that Hawkeye had even taught him how to scowl the same way.

“Get out of my house, Kimblee.”

Kimblee sighed. “Well, I guess if you’ve got no philosopher’s stones you’re useless to me. Even that adorable daughter you have isn’t worth my time, now. She’s spent too much time around fools to be worth anything.”

“How dare you speak of my intended that way,” Roy growled at him.

Kimblee clasped his hands in front of him. “Oh, how sweet. Boy meets master, boy meets master’s daughter, master pairs off his only daughter with his favorite student and he gets to watch them have the life he and his own wife should have had. Tell me boy, did the barmaids and whores at the tavern ever tell you the meaning of the word ‘vicariously’?”

Lightning fast, Roy’s finger zipped through the air. “Feyah ‘Ter Laa’t!” Then he blew as hard as he could into Kimblee’s chest and the man flew across the room. While he was trying to scramble to his feet, Master Hawkeye opened the front door while Roy grabbed Kimblee by the wool collar of his under jacket and flung him out the door.

“King Bradley will hear about this!” Kimblee shouted as he sailed through the air.

“Good! And make sure I get a summons to the palace to tell my side of the story, you ass!” He slammed the door, fuming mad about the fact that he’d very likely just lost his opportunity to advance in his skills as a sorcerer. After all, if Master Kimblee was in charge of overseeing the journeymen, then he’d pretty much blown a hole in all his plans.

But instead, he felt a hand come down on his shoulder.

“It took a lot of courage to do what you did.”

Roy turned to his master. “I’m sorry if I screwed things up for you. The things he said, that he implied- they were wrong. Why couldn’t he have just left like you asked him to? Why did he have to rub salt in the wound like that?”

Hawkeye’s mouth was set in a thin line. “Because some people enjoy watching others experience pain. And Kimblee is a person who enjoys the suffering of others very much.”

“I’m sorry about your wife, sir.”

Hawkeye nodded. “Thank you. But I should tell you right now that there are some things our magic can’t reach, and bringing the dead back to life is one of those things. Don’t ever waste your time with it, it won’t do you any good.”

Roy acknowledged the lesson as Master Hawkeye bid Kimblee a ‘Good riddance!’ and turned the house back to normal. He shook his head. “If I can’t make journeyman, I’ll never make master, so I guess Miss Riza is forever out of reach to me, now.” His master stopped walking beside him and Roy stopped a few steps later, looking back at him. “What is it?”

“Do you truly love her, Mr. Mustang?”

He turned to face him as the evening sun shone through the diamond shaped glass in the parlor windows. “Master Hawkeye, I’ve been nothing but honest with you since I arrived here, and believe me when I say I fell in love with her from the moment I saw her. It’s more than just her beauty though- she carries herself like a woman who could snap your neck in an instant. Fifty years ago, she could have been mistaken for a queen. I can’t begin to tell you how much I love her, or for all the reasons I do. It’s like knowing the difference between sun and shade on your back- you just know.”

Hawkeye closed his eyes. “Write to your aunt. Tell her there’s going to be a wedding at the end of the month.” Before Roy could rush off, he called Riza down. When she arrived she took her hands and kissed them, then placed them in Roy’s hands.

“I give her to you. I have no doubt she’ll be as safe in your arms as she would be in mine.”

Roy’s heart was fit to burst. “Thank you so much, Master Hawkeye. I promise you I’ll do whatever I can to keep her happy and healthy.”

“I’m going up to remove the spells from the bed and the doorway. I’d rather you fool around in the house than outdoors where someone could see or where you could get bitten by a spider.” Roy was sure his heart was going to stop beating at any moment. “In the morning, we’ll rearrange your learning schedule a bit so you’ll have time to properly court before your wedding.”

He went through the doorway that led to the staircase and shut it behind him, leaving Roy alone with Riza as he made it possible for them to visit one another in each other’s bedrooms. They were still holding hands when Riza asked what had happened.

“He’s arranging for us to be wed at the end of the month. He wants me to write to my aunt right away.” Roy brought her hands to his lips and kissed them. “He’s going to let me take you as my wife, Riza.”

Her cheeks flushed and he couldn’t have found her more adorable. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead, then her cheek, then finally her mouth. Riza pulled her hands away from his and touched his face as her mouth opened for him. His arms wound around her back and pulled her closer, and for the first time in a long while, Roy was absolutely completely and ultimately happy.

When they broke for air, he asked her, “Riza, will you marry me?”

“Of course, Mr. Mustang.”

“Will you please call me Roy? Unless you want me to call you _Mrs. Mustang_ …” She hugged him tightly, and he allowed himself a grin. “Maybe I should just call your name as I make love to you.”

Riza grunted and shook her head. “Out of respect for my father’s generosity, we should wait until after we’re married.”

“But he said-”

“I know,” she replied, kissing him gently. “As I said, it would be out of respect for him.” She dashed to the kitchen where a calendar hung on the wall. “Besides, you’ve waited this long, you can wait another three weeks, right?”

He smiled at his intended, still able to taste her on his lips. “You’re right. Three weeks is nothing. And the kisses help make the time go by a little easier.”

She kissed him again, eyes closed and mouth opened. He could die, he thought. Die a thousand times over and still be as fulfilled. “I love you,” he whispered near her ear before he kissed her neck.

“I love you too, Roy.”

* * *

 

 

When Kimblee finally was able to break the spell Hawkeye’s smart assed apprentice put on him, he was battered and bruised. In order for the counter spell to activate, he had to have both feet on the ground, and with ‘Feather Light” on him, the slightest breeze blew him haphazardly across the rolling plains surrounding Bolton like a leaf.

He’d managed to grab hold of a tree branch and he climbed down the trunk, jamming his toes into the soft dirt at the base to insure contact with the earth. With a scribble of an array in the air, he quickly cast off the spell and became normal again. Kimblee seethed with anger at how the Master did not restrain or reprimand his apprentice- and that his beautiful daughter was now going to be marrying that same snide young man.

“It’s a travesty,” he muttered to himself. All the fantasies he’d had of listening to the girl’s shrill voice, begging for mercy as he brutally took her on their wedding night were crushed, and he was almost sick knowing that Riza Hawkeye was likely madly in love with the gallant white knight Mustang portrayed himself to be.

This simply would not do.

He hurried back to his guest chambers in the bowels of Rhyre Keep. Upon bursting inside, he tugged out an old handwritten journal and skimmed the pages until he found what he was looking for. On one of the dusty pages was written the spell that would bring nothing but ruin to the three people living in the strange house on the outskirts of town. The array was simple enough, but finding the appropriate vessel to carry the spell in would be the trick.

Kimblee gathered the journal and left once again, prowling the dark for the perfect thing to contain his destructive magic. He found plenty of women of the night, perfect for other experiments he had, but not what he was looking for. A stray cat wouldn’t work, neither a stray dog… Maybe a cooking pot would work?

He passed a shop keeper closing up for the night, jiggling his key in the lock trying to get it to turn the tumblers, when the perfect thing caught the sorcerer’s eye: a delicate music box, painted with pastoral scenes and featuring a couple dressed in country peasant clothes dancing in the middle. He waited until the owner was well out of sight before putting a spell on the glass to make it thin as water, then reached in and stowed it away in his coat pocket and slinked into a dark back alley.

A quick twist of the key revealed the song- ‘Come What May’, and Kimblee grinned wickedly.

“Indeed,” he said to himself, drawing the array on the air beside the music box. “Hoond-red Roh-tat-cheeon, Veeoh-lent Cam-boost-eeon, Ut-tah kowse!” he whispered as the magic wound itself around the gears and wheels inside the music box. He silently made his way back to the Hawkeye estate, setting the music box (now finely wrapped and signed as a gift to the newly betrothed couple from General Raven.

“Enjoy the music while it lasts,” Kimblee said to the wind. The scent of dew rising on the grass tickled in nose and made him wonder how Mustang would counteract _that_ spell. He almost wanted to be present when it set itself off just to witness the glory of it.

After one hundred plays, the music box would violently combust, causing utter chaos, meaning the flames would be immune to water. Kimblee just knew that was the right present to congratulate Hawkeye’s young apprentice with.


	2. Chapter 2

At sunrise, Riza rubbed her eyes open and took her time waking up.  A smile broke across her cheeks, still warm from sleep.  Eventually, her feet found their way to her slippers and she made it down the hall to the bathroom to relieve herself and wash her face.  Afterward, she went back to her bedroom and dressed, unable to keep the cheerful grin away.

Her father had arranged for her and the handsome Mr. Mustang to be married, and they were free to court one another now.  No more hidden glances or sneaking around corners to get a peek at his face, she could take his arm and walk into town with him if she wanted, could kiss his cheek in public if she wanted.  At long last, it seemed things were beginning to look up for her.

Her father called her name from downstairs as she combed her hair into a less messy look.

“I’ll be right down!” she yelled back to him.  After putting her comb and mirror away in her vanity, she quickly made her bed and hurried down to meet him.

Roy was holding a gaily wrapped box and wearing a surprised expression.  “Apparently we’ve got a gift from General Raven.  Kimblee must’ve told him about our engagement.”

“From the General?” Riza asked.  “Wow, he must think a lot of you to send a gift so quickly!”

“Why don’t you open it?” he asked, smiling as he handed the box to her.

She hesitated only a moment before taking it to dining table, pulling the bright white bow and ripping into the gift wrapping.  She lifted the lid off and gasped.  “It’s a music box!”

Her father smiled.  “Your mother loved music boxes, as well.  How thoughtful of the General to send such a lovely gift.  You’ll have to thank him.”

She nodded as she twisted the key on the bottom and lifted the lid.  The cheerful notes filled the room and Riza picked up the melody, humming along before singing the words.

“‘Seasons may change, winter to spring, but I’ll love you ‘til the end of time, come what may.’  Such a fitting song,” she said as she watched the painted couple twirling in the middle of the velvet lined box.  She felt Roy’s hand come up to squeeze her arm and he kissed her temple.

“I should go into town and see about getting you some jewelry to go in this box… and a ring to go on your finger.”

She chuckled to herself.  “Maybe after breakfast and once you help me hang up the wash.  We can’t let the house go to hell just because there’s going to be a wedding.”

“And I’ll give you the day off from your studies, Mr. Mustang,” her father chimed in.  “I’ll never pass up the opportunity for someone to shower my daughter with fine gifts.”

Her betrothed’s handsome face pinked just the slightest.  “If it were up to me she’d have the finest in everything, sir.  I’ll do my best to always treat her like a queen.”

As the music box wound down and began to slow, she picked it back up and gave it another few twists.  “Feel like helping me with breakfast, Roy?”  She didn’t miss the pride that flashed in his eyes at her calling him by his given name.

“Of course,” he commented as he reached for her spare apron.

 

* * *

 

 

Over the next few days, Roy and Riza began to finalize details concerning the wedding, where they would live afterward, discussed waiting to have children until he could be hired on by a nobleman or set up shop in a village somewhere that needed a sorcerer.  They shared a few heated embraces in her bedroom, forcing themselves to stop before anything could get out of hand.  He made her promise that she would settle her need for him with her fingers before he left to coax his own body back to a state of calm.

One night after he finished soothing himself, he opened the window and just breathed in the sweet night air.  His aunt would be on the way soon, arriving to take Riza’s room as Riza moved into his room.  That would be the night they would become one, even though it would be a good week before the wedding.  It had been years at this point since he’d lain with a woman- and he couldn’t wait to finally find bliss with Riza in his arms.

He sighed dreamily to himself as he picked up the sound of the music box tinkling from Riza’s room.  She’d played it so much since it arrived, Roy was hoping the thing didn’t break before they got married.  Just as he was about to close the window, a voice called out from the darkness.

“Good even, young sir!” a gravelly male voice called out.  “Is Master Hawkeye home?”

Roy peered down at the man, a swath of black hair tied at the back of his head rather sloppily.  “I believe so.  Ring the door, he’ll come if he’s still awake!”

“Thank you!” the man called back, an easy (likely drunken) smile upon his lips as he made his way to the door.  Roy pulled on his pants and righted himself quickly.  What if this man was as crazy as Master Kimblee had been?

He made his way downstairs as the bell rang and the house put on its disguise.  His future father-in-law was already at the door welcoming the stranger in.

“Isaac, it’s been far too long!” he said excitedly as he ushered the other man inside.  “Set yourself down and tell me the news of the world, my old friend!”  He waved the spell that kept the house looking dreary and dilapidated away, and Roy knew immediately that this man was safe if Master Hawkeye was willing to show him the true nature of the home they lived in.

“First, why don’t you tell me who that young man is,” the man asked as he whipped his cloak off and hung it on a peg as if he’d lived there for years.

Master Hawkeye walked over to Roy, grinning.  He put his hand on Roy’s shoulder and said, “Isaac, I want you to meet my apprentice and future son-in-law, Roy Mustang.  Roy, this is my very good friend Isaac MacDougal.  We studied together in the village I’m from, back before I was put under Raven’s command.”

Roy extended his hand to the man.  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. MacDougal.”

“Please, son- call me Isaac. Only the tax man calls me Mr. MacDougal.”

Roy turned to his master.  “Should I make some tea?  Or maybe some coffee?”

Hawkeye nodded.  “Get the imported coffee.  That should do fine.”

Roy’s ears pricked up as he gathered the coffee and the percolator.  Isaac spoke of an illness spreading along the northern border that seemed to be causing limbs to decay and fall off.  So far it had been contained, but fears of a plague were fueling families to move further south and west where the climate was drier, which gave hope that the disease wouldn’t spread.  There was also the story of a bandit who wore all black with a white eye embroidered on his cloak.  Apparently he watched people during the day who were committing sins against the crown and exacted his revenge in the dead of night, armed with thousands of blades.

Roy poured the fresh coffee into fine mugs and brought cream and sugar on a plain tray and sat it down before their guest.

“And I also heard word that a green-on-the-vine sorcerer pissed off Master Kimblee, and I had to come see for myself what such an idiot looked like.”  Roy felt his cheeks and ears heat up and Isaac laughed deeply.  “I think Kimblee probably got his just desserts.  I just hope he didn’t get too ruffled about it.”

Flustered, Roy blurted out, “Well, he shouldn’t barge into people’s houses and insult them to their face!  He was rude and out of line with the comments he made.  I couldn’t allow him to stand there and insult not only my master but my bride the way he did.”

Isaac took a sip of his coffee.  “Boy, I don’t think you understand.  That Kimblee is an evil man.  He takes the same pleasure in watching a stray dog explode as others take from sniffing the wildflowers.  You get on his bad side, and you’re gonna know it.  Just watch your back, because I guarantee he’s already got something in the works.”

Roy crossed his arms and grunted.  “I’m not afraid of him.”

Isaac gave him a chilling glance.  “You should be.”

Roy swallowed and Master Hawkeye added that while Kimblee was indeed someone who relished people’s agony over their happiness, he didn’t think he would set out to cause that much harm. He went on to ask their guest how he liked the imported coffee blend he’d gotten from far off Aerugo.  With the subject changed, Roy left the parlor to clean up the kitchen, knots forming in his stomach. What if he really had upset Kimblee to the point of provoking him?  Maybe he should see about apologizing to him formally to avoid any further issues…

“Why don’t you stay the night?” Master Hawkeye asked his old friend.  “We’ve got plenty of room and we’d love to have you.  Besides, if you leave before Riza’s had a chance to say hello, she’ll be upset with you.”

Isaac chuckled as his lips met the rim of his mug.  He took a scalding gulp and replied, “That girl’s going to be a wife and mother soon, she doesn’t have time to be upset with an old codger like me anymore.”

“Still, I insist you stay here than at the drafty inn in Bolton.”  He waved and spoke a spell, and the flames in the fireplace stoked up a bit.  “Doesn’t that chair look so comfy?  And warm too?  I’ll even let you take your boots off and air those rotten feet out.”

Master MacDougal stroked his scraggly chin.  “You do drive a hard bargain…  And I _do_ love that damn chair.”

Master Hawkeye laughed.  “Make yourself at home, Isaac. We’ll talk more in the morning.”

Roy bid their guest goodnight and followed his master’s lead, leaving Isaac to make himself comfortable by the fire to sleep off whatever he’d been drinking on the way to the house.  But when he made his way into his bedroom, he found he wasn’t very sleepy- not since finding out what a mean streak Master Kimblee had in him.

He sat down at his desk, lighting the lantern there and pulling out his pen and parchment.  Perhaps the best way to begin reconciliation was to write him a sincere apology and hand-deliver it to Rhyre Keep first thing in the morning.  If Roy recalled correctly, he should still be there attempting to gather philosopher’s stones from sorcerers and vendors in the area. And hopefully he wasn’t as evil as Master MacDougal had insinuated… Even evil men could be reasonable, right?

It didn’t take him long, and he made up a tale saying that Master Hawkeye had beat him across the fingers for his transgression so badly that he couldn’t even hold a pen until recently to make his apology.  Satisfied with his letter and his plan to ensure his forgiveness, he settled into bed to sleep at last.

First thing in the morning, he apologized to Riza before dashing out the door.  “I won’t be long, I just want to make sure this letter reaches Master Kimblee is all.”  When she gave him a confused look, he told her he would explain everything when he got back, that he loved her, and to save his portion of breakfast in the oven if he wasn’t back before everyone sat down at the table.

Using Fleet of Foot, he made it to General Raven’s castle in under ten minutes- a new record for Roy.  The guards insisted on detaining him at the gate before even passing the letter along, and then the General himself caught sight of him and asked that he be escorted inside.

“Ah, Mr. Mustang!” the old man called out with a smile.  “What brings you to the Keep today?”

He bowed toward his benefactor.  “I wanted to present a formal apology to Master Kimblee for our unfortunate first meeting.  I thought it best to rush it here myself than to wait for the postman.”

The General nodded.  “Good thinking.  I’d heard you two had a bit of a squabble, glad to see you being the bigger man.  Do you have time to stay and chat before returning to your work?  I’d love to catch up with you.”

Roy fidgeted.  “I can stay a short time, but I really must get back soon.”

“One cup of tea won’t hurt anything, I’m sure.”  He turned to one of the men standing with him and gave orders to have tea brought into his private parlor.  The thin young man darted away and Raven patted Roy on the shoulder as he guided them back into the massive stone fortress.  “One cup of tea is plenty of time away from bookwork.  You still have your parents’ fortune?” he intoned questioningly.

Roy was sure the man was implying that he’d spent it all on whores and wine, and he proudly answered him, “I have every cent still.  Besides, I need every penny if I’m going to build a home for Riza and I.”

The General stopped them in the hall.  “You and Riza?  Isn’t that Hawkeye’s daughter?”

Roy was confused.  “Yes, sir.  We’re engaged to be married- you sent us a gift of congratulations, remember?”

Now General Raven seemed to be the confused one.  “Why, I know I’m getting up in years, son- but this is the first I’ve heard of your engagement.  And I haven’t sent a gift of any kind to anyone in months.  Are you sure it was from me?”

“Of course, sir!  It said on the card, ‘May your marriage be long and happy, many blessings, General Raven.’  It was a music box, and it arrived about six days ago, the day after Master Kimblee came-”

His heart plummeted into his stomach.   General Raven was going on about being flattered that someone would send a gift in his name, but all Roy could think of was what kind of curse could Kimblee have put on that music box.

Interrupting the General mid-sentence, he apologized for his rush but that he absolutely had to leave immediately.  He called over his shoulder, “I’ll explain everything later!” as he sprinted for the main entrance and out the gates of Rhyre Keep.

His arms and legs pumped like pistons in a locomotive steam engine he saw near the capitol once, flying as fast as he could down the streets and roads of Bolton and finally down the dirt road that would take him home.  His chest heaved and a stitch burned in his side, but he pushed himself harder, faster, until at last the house he’d come to love was in sight.

He breathed a sigh of relief and slowed just a fraction, seeing that everything was just as he’d left it-

And just as he reached the vegetable patch, an explosion shook the ground and he lost his balance, taking down a spot of string beans as he collided with the earth.  The house was engulfed almost immediately, and the scream that came from his throat sounded inhuman to his own ears.

 _“RIZA!”_ he roared, getting to his feet.  Nothing answered him.  The sound of the flames consuming everything in sight was the only reply he got.  He didn’t know what to do, how to save any of them, and then he heard a rough voice shout through the smoke and fire:

_“ONE HOOND-RED RITES OF ICE!”_

Almost instantaneously, a shield of ice surrounded the entire house, sealing itself to the ground and smothering the flames within seconds.  Isaac MacDougal came running from the back of the house to meet Roy, and he couldn’t have been more relieved to see him.

“Are they alive?” Roy asked desperately.  “Please tell me they were with you when it happened!”

MacDougal shook his head.  “I’d gone out to the woods to gather some fronds of hazel when I saw the explosion.”  He turned back toward the house, scribbled an array in the air and blew across his palm.  The ice rose as steam into the air and Roy dashed toward the door.

The frame of the house looked undamaged, but there was hardly anything left inside.  The window panes were all broken out, the parlor and dining room smoking husks with barely recognizable burnt up pieces of furniture.  His eyes wouldn’t stop watering down his dirty cheeks as he forced himself to go toward the stairs and look for Riza.  He felt Isaac’s hand fall on his shoulder.

“Look for Berthold.  I’ll go upstairs and look for Riza.”

He turned to the stranger, feeling his guts twist up into a knot that he knew was going to settle in and stay for a long time.  “Alright.”  They parted ways at the staircase, Roy dashing off to his Master’s study while the sorcerer went to find his betrothed.

Despite the flames being out, it was still so hot inside the house.  Wiping his brow, he opened the door to the study where all of the magical texts and tomes were kept.  He was surprised to find the books themselves unharmed, though every stick of furniture was nearly disintegrated.  Not finding anyone (or anything human looking) in this particular room, he went on to the small lab in the next room over, and he felt the knot in his stomach clench tighter at what he discovered.

Master Hawkeye was lying across his scrying table where he penned spells that he sold to customers who came calling on occasion.  His lower half had been spared of most of the explosion, as it had been deflected by the scrying table.  But the upper half was burnt black, like everything else.  Even so- Roy could make out the expression of surprise and shock on his dead master’s face, his eyebrows and hair singed away, the eyes themselves blistered and yellow, and the fingers poised as if to draw an array.

And if the explosion had come from that damned music box, and this was the scene so far away from it…

“Riza…” Roy whimpered as the tears began to fall harder.  He turned from Master Hawkeye’s body and fled to the staircase.  He raced upwards, two steps at a time, and when he hit the landing he saw Isaac standing there, wiping his eyes.

“Kimblee’s work, no doubt,” he choked out.  “I am begging you, son- don’t go in there.  What’s in that room will haunt your nightmares for the rest of your life.”

Roy’s first thought was to push past him and look anyway.  But then he remembered how his brashness had started this whole mess in the first place and he listened this time.  “What…  She’s…”

“I’m sorry, Roy.  Take comfort in knowing her death was instant and painless.”

“What’s in there?” he asked a long minute afterward.

“That room wasn’t burned at all.  She’s…”  Isaac swallowed hard, taking a deep breath.  “She’s in pieces in there, and that room wasn’t touched by fire.”

Roy couldn’t fight the swell of emotion that surged through him, and he sank to his knees on the blackened floor, sobbing to the point of hysterics.  His beloved Riza…  She had nothing at all to do with the altercation that happened between him and Kimblee, why do such a monstrous thing to an innocent person?  

He couldn’t remember how he got out of the house, or how he’d gotten to the hospital, or when exactly his aunt arrived to retrieve him.  But he could remember watching the coffins in their carriages, rolling solemnly toward the cemetery where Mrs. Hawkeye was buried.

He stood with his Aunt and Master MacDougal, as well as General Raven and several others who’d come to mourn the loss of the great Sorcerer Hawkeye.  His coffin had been a dark brown color, a spray of white flowers on top as they lowered it into the ground.  Riza’s coffin was painted white, with silver handles and a spray of blue wildflowers- all her favorites.  Before the gravediggers could cover her up, Roy kissed a red rose and tossed it to lay on top.

“Your sisters have already made up your room at the tavern,” Aunt Chris mentioned as she passed him a flask from some hiding place in her dress.  He downed it all in one go and handed it back to her, not even bothering to wipe his mouth.  “You take as long as you need to heal, Roy.  At least you’ll have a bed to sleep in and pot to piss in, so long as I’m alive.”

“I’m not going home with you.”

He didn’t see the look she gave him, but he could feel her worry without seeing it in her wrinkled, painted eyes.  “The hell you’re not.  You’re in no condition to be on your own right now.  You’re coming home and that’s-”

Roy turned abruptly and hissed under his breath, “One more word and I’ll put an array on you.”

She closed her mouth, scowling viciously at him.  He took a breath and stepped back from her.  “Aunt Chris, thank you for your concern, but I really must set out to find my own way in this world, and I can’t do that if I’m hiding under your skirts drinking myself to death.  It’s for the best.”

Without a word, Aunt Chris dug around in her black sequined bag and pulled out a wad of cash and tucked it into his hand, tears in her eyes- something he’d only seen one other time, and that was when they buried his parents. She stared at him helplessly for a moment as she continued to press the folded money into his hand before she slapped him across the face.

“You ever put some kind of spell on me and I’ll kill you, boy. And if I hear you’ve killed yourself, I’ll be back here so fast to piss on your grave, it’ll make your stupid head spin.” She wiped her eyes with a handkerchief she pulled from her dress bodice.  “I wish you luck; you know where to find me if things get too rough.”  Aunt Chris patted his face where he could feel the heat of her strike, then walked away from him, leaving him standing at the cemetery gates.

His mother and father had been gone a long time, now Riza and Master Hawkeye were dead, too.  Though his aunt lived still, she was abiding by his wishes to let him find his way back to sanity- and that left him alone and bent on revenge for loss of his beautiful bride.  A chilly breeze ruffled his shirt collar and he started walking toward the remains of the house he’d lived in for the past two years, no Fleet of Foot or any other kind of spell to help him along.

As he walked, the landscape seemed duller, less alive than it had in weeks previous.  It felt like autumn already though summer’s warmth still kissed the fields and trees around him. But the birds didn’t seem to sing anymore, the dragonflies didn’t zip curiously past as they once did on his way home, and not once did he spy a rabbit or a squirrel out for an afternoon snack.  It was like a grand party had ended, and he was the only one left in the ballroom.

The house came into view and for the first time, Roy thought it looked exactly as Master Hawkeye wanted it to be seen.  It looked like a long forgotten cottage on the edge of a country road, abandoned to the wilds that surrounded it and stripped bare of any love or idea of ‘home’ it may have had.  Roy sighed, wishing suddenly that he’d taken his aunt up on her offer after all, or at least asked if she had any more liquor on her.  

He shook his head.  No, if he was going to go through with his plan, he would do it with a clear head and a clear heart, even if it killed him to do it.  As he walked up to the door, he passed a stone in the garden he’d made for Riza, a good sized rock with her initials carved into the surface with an unnecessary flourish that had made her smile all the way to her eyes.  He didn’t stop to look at it as he made his way to the door, only felt glad to know it was still there and still untouched by the damnable flames that took _her_ from him.

Standing before the door, he pulled a scrap of parchment from his breast pocket.  On it was an array and a spell- “As Before, Once Again”.  MacDougal had given it to him when he told the man of his plans to continue studying his Master’s texts on his own.

“It won’t bring them back son, but it will at least put the house back the way it was before the fire, the spell at the door, the dishes in the cupboards, even the clothing in the wardrobes.”  He’d warned him over ale and sausages at the local tavern in Bolton that no spell existed to bring back the dead, not even with the amplification of a philosopher’s stone.  He told Roy of Hawkeye’s madness when he tried to resurrect his dead wife, and how it nearly killed both him and Riza in the process.

“Don’t follow in all of your master’s footsteps.  And if you ever need anything, you can send for me.”

Roy studied the array one more time before closing his eyes and taking a breath to steady himself.  He raised his hand, index finger extended, then drew a pattern in front of him, saying the words quietly as he drew.

“Ahhs bey-for, onts ah-gayn…”

The black crust that dominated the house began to move and change from the inside out.  The house creaked and groaned, cracked and snapped, but the walls started to sit up straighter, the clapboard siding became more even, the small awning over the front door rose a good three inches, and the diamond shaped leaded windows had their panes back in them in a matter of moments.  The chimney stood straight and tall again, and the front door itself looked almost brand new.  When Roy opened the door, the splendid home he’d lived in was restored once more, just as Isaac said it would be.  Out of curiosity, he twisted the key on the door bell, and the dark and dilapidated illusion sprung quickly to life.  Then he had a new problem…

As long as Roy had been there, only Master Hawkeye had ever broken the spell of the doorbell.  Would he even be able to do it?  Or would he just have to live with the dreary version of the house instead?

“”Good riddance!” he shouted with a wave of his hand.

Thankfully, the spell was broken, and the parlor turned from a broken and disorganized mess back into the warm and cozy room he’d known before.

While General Raven had passed the deeds to the home and the land on to Roy, seeing as he was eventually going to be the rightful owner at some point in the future had Hawkeye lived, now that everything was right again with the house, Roy wasn’t sure he wanted to stay after all.  Everything about his surroundings said that Master Hawkeye should be in his study and Riza- his sweet, sweet Riza- should be either in the garden gathering up the vegetables for the day or maybe hanging the laundry up to dry.  He could even still smell the rose water she liked to put behind her ears.  He bowed his head, forcing his tears to stay behind his eyes.  He walked over to the dining table, pulled a chair out and sat down heavily.

“Master Hawkeye, I swore to you I would make master level, and even though you’re not here to guide me any longer, I will not renege that oath I made to you.  I will use the reading left behind in your study, your notes, anything I can find there, and I will do this with or without Kimblee’s approval, even if I have to go to a different city to do it.”  There was no answer as he made his promise to no one, and he sighed.  

“My dear Riza…  I will never love another woman the way I loved you.  I wanted to marry you and give you children, live a long and happy life with you as we greeted death together at the end of a long, long road.  Even now, I still love you so much.  Everything I do, I do for you.”  When the tears came this time, he couldn’t stop them.  He shut his mouth and allowed himself a moment to grieve for the loss of yet another pair of loved ones, gone much too soon from this world.

Later, after the sun had gone down and his tears had dried, he found some food in the pantry and forced himself to eat.  After that, he broke the lock on the liquor cabinet and helped himself to some aged brandy.  Too drunk to climb the stairs and go to bed, he slept on the sofa, covered up in a blanket that smelled like his beloved.

 

* * *

 

 

It was nearly a week later when he decided he wanted to see if the music box that had taken his new family from him had been restored along with the house.  Bravely, he climbed the stairs and opened the doors as he met them, peering inside each room before moving on to the next.

He had never seen inside his Master’s bedroom before, but from what he could see, everything was as it should be, right down to the unmade bed.  The nightstand had a nearly empty glass of water on it, the clothes he’d worn the day before slung over the back of a chair, and the curtains were open to let the light in.

Roy closed the door, giving himself a moment of silence to honor the memory of the man who’d taken a chance on him and brought him into his house and family.  

“Rest in peace, Master Hawkeye,” he murmured as he moved down the hall.

The next room was Mrs. Hawkeye’s sewing room, another place Roy had never seen the inside of before.  Unfortunately, most of it was covered in white sheets, keeping the dust off the items that lay underneath, but off to the right…

Roy saw a wedding dress,the hanger over a nail high on the wall and a sewing kit on a small table next to it.  In the kit were sequins and thread, crystal looking beads and faux pearls of all different sizes, and on the dress itself was a small red pin marking where Riza probably left off repairing the dress.  It was an older style, most likely her mother’s wedding dress, and Roy felt his eyes dampening again.

“You would have been the most beautiful bride ever, Riza,” he said aloud.  He gently touched the lace sleeves and the delicate applique’ motifs that adorned the skirting, then went on to discover she also had shoes sitting in a box underneath the small table that held the sewing kit.  Roy forced himself to leave, his heart aching at the fresh wounds seeing the dress had opened.  Maybe he should wait to go through her room until he could handle it.

Standing in the hallway, Roy took a couple of deep breaths to steady himself before going into Riza’s room.  From what Isaac had told him, Riza’s body had been splintered across the entire room, blood and gore on every surface.  He couldn’t recall the state of the music box, and Roy was curious if first of all her room was restored to normal as the rest of the house had been, and secondly, if the music box had been restored as well.

Cautiously, he opened the door, just a sliver.  Peering into her cheerful room, he could see no blood spatters and he breathed a sigh of relief.  He opened the door a little wider, still only seeing a pristine and neatly made bed, her curtains open and tied back, her dresser and vanity neat and clean- and there on her nightstand was the damnable music box that had started all of this, all in one piece and looking brand new as if it hadn’t killed everyone in the house.

Roy grabbed it and flung it at the wall, shattering it into a dozen or more pieces as it also tore the wallpaper and left a dent in the plastered wall.  He sat down on her bed- so much softer and comfortable than his own bed- and looked around the room.  Nothing was out of place.  It even still smelled like her, like she’d just been there and gone downstairs to make lunch.

“If there really were any gods in this world, something like this wouldn’t have ever happened,” he hissed bitterly at his toes as the tears began again.  “That damn Kimblee is going to pay for what he’s done, for those he’s taken from this world.”

He stood and walked over to her vanity and saw a lavender colored ribbon she sometimes wore in her hair.  He picked it up and kissed it.  “I’ll make master and challenge him, I’ll take his position under King Bradley and further humiliate him, and I’ll make you so proud of me, Riza.”

When Roy left her room, his eyes were dry, and his resolve to continue his studies was stronger than ever.

It was weeks before Roy made it back to check in with General Raven, and by that point, Kimblee, who did not send any kind of reply to his apology letter, was long gone. Raven had caught wind of Isaac’s presence in Bolton and hired him on until Roy could reach his mastership and take over Hawkeye’s previous position as his personal sorcerer.

In the same sitting room that he’d met Master Hawkeye in nearly two years ago, Roy met with General Raven once more, this time to discuss what happened on that late spring morning when the house exploded.

“I regret that we have to drag up such bad memories,” General Raven commented as they sipped at some wine. “But I understand that you’re very adamant on telling me what happened, and that you know the criminal who did such a thing.”

For the first time in his life, Roy wished he could have had one of his aunt’s cigarettes. He felt tense and anxious inside and somehow he thought a wad of tobacco rolled up in a sheaf of paper would be just the thing to calm him down. “Yes, I have a very good idea at who caused all of this to happen, and I think it’s my duty as a survivor to pursue an arrest.”

Quietly, General Raven asked, “What happened, Mr. Mustang?”

Roy took a few deep breaths, then related the story of his only meeting with Master Kimblee, how things started off on a bad foot and quickly deteriorated completely.

“He stood in my master’s house, mocking him for his wife’s death, then went on to insult him and my betrothed. I lashed out and placed a spell on him and threw him out of the house. My desire to protect the family that had taken me in and given me so much led me to placing that ‘Feather Light’ spell on him, and he blew across our front garden like a leaf on the wind. I’m sure he was embarrassed and humiliated because a smart-mouthed sorcerer who wasn’t even a journeyman yet tossed him out on his ear.” He sat on the edge of his chair. “General Raven, Kimblee was the only person who knew I was going to be married to Riza apart from the people living at the Hawkeye estate. I hadn’t had a chance to notify my aunt yet, and even Master MacDougal didn’t know about it until he arrived at the house about a week later. But then we got that gift that said it had come from you…” He paused, running his hands through his hair. “I can’t believe I didn’t know then that the music box was carrying a spell so strong-”

“It was a music box?” Raven asked, frowning. “I do wish I’d known about this sooner. I hate music boxes, always have. I never would have sent something so awful and trivial as a gift to celebrate an engagement.”

Roy shook his head. “We never thought anything about it, assuming that Kimblee returned, told you what happened with our disagreement, and that you’d sent the gift right away. We never thought it could be anything other than a present.”

“And you’re saying you think that it was Kimblee who sent the gift and placed a curse on it to blow up and set fire to your home?” Raven asked as he rose and began to pace around the room, the stem of his goblet twirling in his fingertips.

“Yes, sir.”

“And you want me to ask King Bradley to place Master Kimblee under arrest for the murder of Master and Miss Hawkeye?”

Roy’s jaw clenched, but he nodded, answering, “Yes, sir. I know in my heart it was him- he had the motive and the ability to do it.”

They were quiet a moment, Raven looking out the window into the courtyard where his own family was enjoying an afternoon snack of fruit. He seemed to be thinking about them as he continued to spin his wine glass to and fro in his finger, and then he turned to Roy.

“Mr. Mustang, I know as well as you do that Master Kimblee is a dangerous man to cross. If I request his arrest, even if I did it anonymously to King Bradley, he could still trace back who did it to me. And if I lost my family as well, it would just mean more blood spilled in Kimblee’s name.”

Roy stood up and shouted, “So you’re going to do nothing?”

Raven held his hand on in front of him. “I’m not going to do nothing. I agree that if you can present enough evidence against him that he should be brought to trial to account for his crimes. However, if I am the person that summons him to court, he will come after me the same as he went after you. We’ll have to find someone willing to risk their lives to do this.”

Roy knew he was trying to protect his family, but- “So how many more people have to die in the meantime? Hell, put my name on the order if it makes a difference! Let me request an audience with King Bradley and I’ll tell him myself what happened!”

“You’d risk your life to see Kimblee thrown in the royal dungeons?”

Roy snarled, “I’d tear my still beating heart from my chest to watch his head roll! He took _everything_ from me- there’s nothing left for him to take. Put my name on the arrest order or let me request to speak to the King.”

The General called for a servant to bring him some parchment and a quill and ink. Moments later, he sat down and wrote the request himself by hand, asking the King of Amestris for an audience to petition for the arrest of Master Zolf Kimblee, and had Roy sign it. After sealing it, he handed it to the servant who brought him the stationary supplies and ordered him to get it to King Bradley right away, even if it took a rider all the way through the night to get it there. The young man snapped a salute and went right away to the task he’d been given.

Raven laid his hand on Roy’s back. “I can’t guarantee an answer, but I’ve done as you’ve asked.”

Roy wiped at his eyes, grateful for the General’s swift response. “Thank you, sir. That’s all I wanted.”

* * *

 

 

Several months later, just as the dead of winter came into Bolton with freezing rain and howling winds, Roy had gone into town for some supplies to continue the spell penning business his master had run on the side to ensure a steady income.  Just as he came out of the stationary shop, he saw a man about to kick a small black and white dog who looked scared out of his mind and frozen to the bone.

Quickly, he drew an array and cast ‘Legs of Lead’ on the bearded man.  When his foot thudded back to the cobblestones, he gave Roy a glare that could have murdered lesser people.

“What do you think you’re doing, sorcerer!?  Do you know who I am!?” the man snarled.

Roy walked over and scooped the dog up, tucking him into his coat.  “You’re a cruel and heartless bastard who’s got nothing better to do on a cold day than kick dogs in the street.  I suggest you worry less about the cold outside and focus on the cold inside your heart, sir.”

He cast ‘Fleet of Foot’ on himself, and only then did he break the spell on the stranger in the street.  The man howled and tried to chase him down, but Roy was much too fast for him, and he and his new friend escaped with no trouble.

After they arrived back at the Hawkeye house, he pointed at the fire to stoke it up, then sat his bag of supplies on the coffee table, next to a stack of replies from the palace in Central City- more denials for an audience with King Bradley. Roy pulled the pup from his coat, looking him over for any other injuries.  When he saw the poor thing was simply cold and frightened, he patted his head and scratched his ears.

“Do you want to stay?” he asked.

The dog’s thin and matted black tail gave a friendly wag and Roy chuckled.  “Then it’s settled.”  He hung his coat up on the peg by the door, gathered his supplies and went into the kitchen.  “Let’s start by getting some food into that belly.”

The dog was reluctant to follow, looking this way and that, nose working overtime.  A little whistle and he trotted along behind Roy as if they’d been friends forever.  Once he sat down a plate of leftover potatoes and a small bowl of rabbit stew, the little dog perked right up.  A couple of spells to clean him up and delouse him and the pup good as new.

“You need a name, friend,” Roy said as he sat in the floor in front of the fireplace with the dog.  “Maybe we should ask Mama what to name you.”  The dog looked up at him with his head cocked to the side, as if he were trying to understand what Roy was saying.  Roy scooped the dog up and went upstairs.

“You’re gonna love Mama, little guy.  She’s the sweetest woman I’ve ever met, and I bet she’ll just love you, especially since we can’t have children.”  He pulled out a keyring that was loaded down with several keys, and began to unlock a row of four locks.  “You could be our baby, that’ll be just as wonderful.”  At last, the locks were all undone and he slowly opened the door.

“Riza!  I’ve got a wonderful surprise for you, darling!”

In the middle of the room was a swirling pillar of fire, and within the pillar was a likeness of Riza Hawkeye.  Her eyes were wide with terror, and she looked as if she were going to scream.

“Shh, shh- I found a dog today.  Some awful old nobleman was about to kick him, so I brought him home to stay with us.  Isn’t he cute?”

The fire woman seemed to relax a tiny bit.  She nodded and wrung her hands.  

“He needs a name, I thought maybe you could help me name him.  If you want, you can think about it and I’ll come back later-”

Riza began grunting, her hands motioning for him to stay.

Roy smiled at her.  “You’ve got a name for him already?  That’s wonderful!  What are we going to call our little boy?” he asked as he pet the dog in his arms.

“Hiii… ahhhh… teeeeh?” she said, looking off to the right, as if she were listening to another voice.  “Hii ahh teeh!”

“Hayate, sounds foreign.  You sure?”

The woman nodded.  Smiling, she waved at the dog.  “Hayate. Cuuute.”

“He sure is, honey.”  He looked up at her.  “Keep practicing on your speech skills.  You’re so close to talking again, Riza, isn’t that exciting?”  Roy heard Riza’s grunts of protest, but left the room and began closing the door behind him.  

“Now, now.  You know I have to keep you locked up in here to keep you from going out!  I won’t lose you again, Riza.  I’ll be back up in a little while to bring more firewood.  Keep practicing your speech!”

And with that, his keys locked her back up once again and he sat the dog down on the floor.  “Well, Hayate,” Roy said as he clipped the keys back to his belt, “let’s find out if you’re housebroken.  Mama wouldn’t like it if you messed on the rugs.

And he and the dog trotted down the steps while Riza put her fiery hands to her face and sobbed silently.

 


	3. Chapter 3

The study was quiet now, darkness having crept into the spaces that once held a warm desire for knowledge. The books and scrolls that lined the wall were neatly arranged as they’d always been- all but three dusty tomes that sat heavily on the bottom shelf.

They had been sealed; it had taken Roy a bit to work out how to open them, but once he did, they never closed again.

The pages had been marked, not by any kind of marker, but by use. The spines seemed to magically open to the right passages on their own, and once Roy read them, he was lost to the words that worked their way into his brain, his heart, and his soul.

_“The deceased are not gone completely from our world. Their life energies remain on just the other side of the window, just the other side of a warm breeze, just a breath away from us. Their spirits are what fuel the magical arts that sorcerers and conjurers practice. We expel energy from our side to get energy from their side in return- it is an equivalent exchange older than time, and if one knows the correct things to exch_

“The dead can be born again.”

The first time Roy read those words, he thought very briefly about the path his master had taken- depleting two philosopher’s stones completely before giving up on raising his dead wife. He also heard the warning both he and Master MacDougal had given him.

He didn’t stop reading.

He read all three books entirely twice, taking notes, making drawings of arrays, lists of ingredients. He devoured the knowledge the dark books gave him like a sumptuous feast that he couldn’t stop himself from gorging on. Though he hadn’t even passed his journeyman’s exam, Roy began to experiment with his theories on animals he’d killed for meat. It took months, but at last he’d unlocked the way to raise dead souls, and immediately he made plans to bring Riza back to life.

Roy’s experimentations included raising the dead into another body, placing the soul into a pendulum that hovered above parchment so as to write upon the paper, placing the soul into a jar of water, but none of them worked until he discovered that placing the spirit into the fire in the hearth worked best.

The first thing he raised was a rabbit. It hopped nervously, terrified of the flames it found itself in. Roy couldn’t soothe it, so he let the fire die out and the rabbit died once more, and he couldn’t raise it a second time.

The second time he used a cat that he’d been feeding at the back step, petting and playing with it whenever it let him. It had been killed by a hawk and Roy decided to try it next, seeing how this creature knew his voice and perhaps could be settled when the flames awoke it. When the cat appeared in the flames, it was also upset and disoriented, but when it heard Roy’s voice, it had seemed to calm some. He assured the poor animal it was fine, tried to prove it by petting him and burned his hand rather badly. The cat eventually settled itself into cowering in a corner of the fireplace, but had at last stopped meowing so desperately.

When Roy was finally ready to tug Riza’s life energy into the flames, he set about gathering his ingredients: the hair from her hairbrush, the lavender ribbon he’d saved from her room when he set the house back to rights, her favorite nightgown, and her favorite flowers from the garden. He drew his array on a sheet of parchment that he laid on top of the logs he would use to create her flames, and then said the ancient words he’d discovered would bring her back:

“T’ckeh-rus-er Nuhsh-ergg-aelf-nok,” he’d spoken in a shaking voice as he touched the array on the logs.

Immediately, the pyre came to life, whipping madly as it grew taller, and gradually, a feminine form took shape among the tongues of flame that threatened to set fire to the whole house. Roy had scrambled to place a protection spell on the entire room to contain the fire should it get out of control, and once it was in place, he couldn’t keep his eyes from the flames.

Riza was rising gracefully from the inferno, looking as if she were asleep inside it. Her body was naked, perfect, healthy and unblemished by death. Roy fell to his knees as he watched the image of her nightgown wrap lovingly around her, the ribbon securing itself in her hair and the flowers giving her feet a soft place to stand.

“Riza,” he’d whispered. “Can you hear me?”

Her eyes fluttered open and immediately she was seized by fear, her arms coming up to protect her face as she screamed.

Roy had quickly gotten to his feet, had shushed her, told her it was an illusion and to not be afraid. “Riza, I’m doing everything I can to break the spell! You must calm down, my love!”

She was crying, but she lowered her arms slowly. Then she reached out with a tentative hand, realizing she wasn’t being hurt by the flames around her. She tried to speak, but she couldn’t make her mouth form the words.

“Are you in pain?” Roy asked. He’d watched as she shook her head, watched as she also responded to his questions about hunger and if she were cold or tired. Satisfied that she was back with him, he began to weep.

“I was sure I’d never see you again!” he’d cried as he wiped at his eyes. “I’m so glad I was wrong!”

He carefully found a way to bring her flame upstairs, placing her in her old room, to comfort her even more. After placing a spell on the room itself so it wouldn’t catch fire, he magically sealed the window to prevent a draft from blowing her fire out, or allowing water in to dampen the logs she burned from.

Ever since that day, Master Hawkeye’s study had been dark. Roy didn’t go there anymore, instead making his own study in his room, dissecting various dark texts trying to find a way to pull Riza from the fire into a more permanent body.

The study remained quiet, but just on the other side of that silence was the life force of the man who’d once owned that study, and his ire burned hotter than the flames his young apprentice had summoned.

* * *

 

 

The doorbell rang and Roy got to his feet as the illusion of dirty furniture and a house in disrepair swallowed the entire lower floor of the house. Peering through the window, he saw his Aunt Chris waiting patiently, and he frowned. Why was she here? He opened the door and Hayate bounded out to greet her, his nose working overtime in her skirts as she squealed with delight.

His aunt bent over to love on the small dog who was currently trying to lick her makeup off her face. “Oh, look at you! Who’s your friend, Roy?” she asked, standing up to give him a hug.

“Hayate,” he answered, putting his arms around her and squeezing tightly. “I got him from a Xingese man who was travelling through a few months ago. His bitch had pups and he couldn’t take them with him.” Roy had kept that story in his pocket for just such an occasion. He couldn’t go around telling everyone that his once dead betrothed named the dog from beyond the grave.

“Well, he’s cute as a button, and great company, I imagine!” Hayate seemed to be just as taken by her as she was with him. He kept standing up on his back legs to get closer to her bejeweled fingers for some loving attention to his head. She reached into her satchel and tossed him a cracker and the dog thought he’d been given the tastiest treat ever.

“Won’t you come in? I’ll put some tea on,” Roy said as he opened the door further for her. However, he did not dispel the illusion put on the house. While he loved his aunt, he didn’t particularly want her staying with him, seeing how he had a fire blazing upstairs with his dead fiancé in it. Well, she wasn’t really _dead_ now, he supposed. Still, it wouldn’t look good on him to have a guest with such an important secret in the same house, and only a few doors down from one another.

He could see her reaction to his living space right away. She looked afraid to sit on the furniture, afraid to literally touch anything. He would’ve grinned, but it would’ve given him away.

“The sofa’s probably the sturdiest thing in the living room. Hayate can sit with you!” he called from the kitchen as he pulled down a stained copper kettle and put water on to boil. “So what brings you into town?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder to see if she’d ever taken a seat or not.

“I haven’t heard from you in months, and the last time we spoke at the cemetery wasn’t a very pleasant parting experience. The girls and I were worried. I just wanted to make sure you were still among the living and not buried next to your woman.” Hayate had finally settled down some and was content to snuggle up to her on the worn out sofa and get pets to his furry head. “I also came to ask you to come home again, now that you’ve had some time to think clearly.”

Roy chuckled warmly from the kitchen. “I’m doing just fine right here, Aunt Chris. I’ve been working hard and studying once a week with Master MacDougal- you remember him from the funeral, right? Anyway, I might be able to skip journeyman and head straight to mastership if I can come up with an original spell or use an old spell in a new way. That’s what MacDougal and I are working on.” He gathered some cracked teacups and some old steepers. “I’m sorry for not keeping up with my correspondence, but don’t worry so much.”

He heard her sigh disappointedly. “Roy, look around you. This place is a dump, ready to fall down any minute. You shouldn’t be here all alone like this, living in the past.”

He brought the tea over to the dusty coffee table and sat it down, offering her cream and sugar and chuckling softly. “I’m not all alone. I have Hayate!” He reached over and gave him a quick scratch behind the ears. “Besides, this is where it all began, this is where I’ll finish it. Once I reach master level, I’ll come home.”

Her eyes were sad. “You could finish at _home_. In a warm tavern with a warm bed and a warm woman by your side.”

He nearly snickered. If only she knew how warm his woman really was upstairs! “I’m sorry, Aunt Chris,” he said sadly. “This is my home now. My name is on the deed to this house and this land, and I’ve grown to love it despite the history I have here. I’m my own man, making my own way in the world. I’m not going back to New Optain with you.”

He could practically see smoke coming from her ears as she let go of her manners. “Roy, this place is a shack! It’s held together with spit and a prayer! You deserve so much better than this, especially after all you’ve had to deal with in your life!” She muttered that the fire should’ve destroyed the house completely and that he should come to his senses and get out of Bolton.

Roy slowly rose. “If that’s all you came to do was nag me about my life choices, you can leave now, Aunt Chris. As you can see, I’m still alive and healthy, and you can tell all the girls at the tavern that I haven’t gone insane.”

“Yes you have,” she hissed, getting to her feet. She shook her dress and grimaced as dust flew from the fabric. “You’ve lost your god damned mind if you think this dump is a home and that penning spells for just anybody who comes in from Bolton is ‘making a living’. But if that’s how you feel, I’ll leave you to it.” She showed herself to the door, turning at the last moment to remind him of her address so he could write once in a while and consider returning there when his brain started working again. Then, she was gone.

Roy stood looking at the door, taking in the silence after she’d left, wondering how much longer it would take him to figure out a way to get Riza out of that fire and into a real body.

“Once I get you out of the flames, the world will be ours to see, Riza,” he said to himself as he made his way to the window to be sure his Aunt hadn’t turned around. Once she was walking toward Bolton, he dispelled the illusion surrounding him and sighed. Hayate pawed at his trouser leg and whined.

Grinning, Roy looked down at him. “Hungry, friend?” The dog sat down and yipped in reply. “Me, too. Let’s have some lunch and then we’ll go out back and see if we can scare up some dinner, okay?” The black and white dog’s ears listened intently, then he got up and seemed to dance around in a circle for a moment. Roy led him into the kitchen, getting out some vegetables and a knife.

 

* * *

 

Months passed, and Roy was no closer to finding a solution to draw Riza’s spirit from her flames than when he first put her in them. He’d discovered an underground merchant, someone who knew where to get materials on the darker side of sorcery. He paid dearly for rare books and journals, all pertaining to the strange spells that could only be activated in a backwards language. Unfortunately, not one of the rare incantations worked, and he was more frustrated than ever. The only breakthrough he’d made was finding he could _touch_ Riza in the flames. He’d nearly melted the skin from his hand, but he was able to grab her hand- and now his brain was heading in an entirely different direction.

Within some of the notes he’d made while still training with Master Hawkeye, he’d written down some various things about enchanting lesser metals to withstand higher heat, and he decided to test these theories on human flesh. The first thing he discovered is that human flesh had two problems when reacting chemically with fire. It was both heat sensitive and flammable. Enchanting it to withstand heat made the severe burns Roy gave himself painless, but it didn’t stop the flames from gobbling up the oils and fat in his body. Once he found the right phrase, he became fireproof.

Because if he couldn’t bring Riza out of her fire pillar, then he was going in.

He made sure to feed his dog, took him out to relieve his little doggy bladder, and then left him downstairs. He opened the door to Riza’s bedroom and she looked over at him with sad eyes.

“Darling, I’ve got something I want to show you,” he murmured as he closed the door behind him.

“Roy, this isn’t right,” she said quietly. “I’m not supposed to be in this world anymore.”

He smiled at her. “No, you’re wrong. You _are_ supposed to be in this world. And I’m going to make you so proud of me.” He spoke the mystical words as both his hands drew an array in the air, then touched his chest. An orange glow emanated from his body and he could feel the warmth of Riza’s fire calling out to him.

Carefully, he stood up on her vanity stool, then stepped up onto the table he’d placed in her room, the one that held the fuel that kept her spirit alive and in his world. He kept his eyes on her as he stepped inside the swirling flames, feeling the heat lift his hair from his head. His eyes felt dry and prickly, and they began to water in response to the sensation.

Riza’s mouth remained set in a frown. “You’re going to kill yourself, what are you doing, Roy?”

His hands reached for her and felt her body, solid as it had ever been, and he pulled her to his chest. “You were murdered nearly two years ago, and now I’m holding you in my arms like you never left. We are part of a miracle right now,” he said as he ran his fingers into the stands of her hair. “I’m not dead, and neither are you.”

He leaned in with a kiss, one Riza didn’t accept at first. Eventually, she gave in, her arms wrapping around him as she began to cry. He whispered how much he loved her in between kisses, that he was willing to do whatever it took to get her out of that fire and back on earth again. And then he palmed her breast through her nightgown and she shoved him away.

Roy looked at her dazedly. “Did I hurt you?” he asked.

“Did you only bring me back to molest me?” she shouted hoarsely, sounding much like she did when he first pulled her into the fire.

“Of course not!” he replied. “I brought you back because I love you and couldn’t bear the thought of you gone from my life!”

“Then why are you groping me like some drunkard?”

He blinked. “We were kissing, I thought that was the next logical thing to do… I didn’t mean to offend-”

“Get out!”

Roy scrambled for a response. “Riza, we were going to be married! I haven’t touched a woman in years, and now that I can touch you, I-”

“You didn’t even ask!” Her hands were balled up into fists and she looked as if she were crying. “You didn’t ask me if I wanted to stay locked in my room like this, trapped in this damnable never-ending blaze! You didn’t ask me if I wanted you to try and get me out of these flames! You didn’t ask me if it was alright to come in here and touch me, to kiss me- let me guess, you were planning to see if you could love me, weren’t you?”

Roy was too ashamed of himself to answer her. He did love her, but he was heartbroken over her death and blinded by madness. And really, what was he trying to do here?

“I’m sorry,” he murmured as he eyes drifted toward his feet. He stepped backward slowly, extracting himself from the fire and easing down off the table. “I love you, I… I never meant to hurt you or upset you. I just wanted to bring you back, marry you and give you children like we talked about.”

“A doll living inside an inferno and a stray dog are not a wife and child,” she said sternly. “I know my death was sudden and gruesome, but this isn’t the way to keep living, and you know it!”

He sat down on the stool and held his face in his hands. “Even if I can’t pull you out of the fire, I’d rather have you here in some capacity than to not have you at all. If I lost you again… I’d probably hang myself.”

“Roy,” Riza said tenderly. “You’ve seen for yourself that souls are just on the other side of death, still here, still lingering. I would never be far from you, even if you couldn’t see or hear me.”

This time when the tears rolled from his eyes, they didn’t evaporate in the fire. He cried openly in front of the woman he loved. “And those weeks when I was without your voice and your face were the darkest. Everywhere I looked I’d see a flash of your hair or hear a sound that triggered some memory of you. When the wildflowers bloomed, I could smell you all the time. I felt as empty as this house back then. And then I brought you back. And then the sun began to shine in my world again.” He wiped at his eyes and shouted, “I’m trying to rescue you, damn it! I was the reason this all happened and I’m trying to save you!”

It was quiet for a moment, the sound of the endless fire rising through the room the only thing to be heard. Riza took a breath and said, “Before you pulled me back, I met your mother and father. I saw _my_ mother again. You have no idea what waits on the other side.”

“And you have no idea what waits for you here, if I can figure out a way to get you out of the fire!” He stood up and angrily put three fresh logs onto her pyre, then grabbed the doorknob and flung the door open. “I’ve got work to do. When I come back, I’ll bring you to my bed and make love to you, and you’ll see just how much I want to keep you alive.”

Slamming the door, he began planning how to fireproof his entire room so that he could build a massive fire under his bed and finally be able to sleep with Riza as he’d wanted to for years, now. To be able to hold her tightly in his arms and just slumber until dawn after rolling passionately with her. Yes, she would see that he was truly in love with her, would trust him to make the right choices concerning her freedom from the flames, maybe even encourage him a little.

Hayate didn’t even wake up when Roy came back down to get some coffee before doing some studying. There had to be a way to get her out of that fire he’d built for her, to take that solid form he just grasped and pull her out.

He closed his eyes and sighed. His thoughts swirled dizzily in his head- was his aunt right? Had he lost his mind and needed to leave sorcery behind and go back home? What about what Riza said, about dying with her and being together on the other side? But then what about Hayate?

And then his coffee mug became so hot that he hurriedly sat it down. “What the hell?” he hissed as he looked down at his palm. He was still under the enchantments to protect his body from heat and flame, why would the _handle_ of his cup suddenly burn him?

A rattling sound made him look toward the kitchen sink. Paralyzed with fear, he watched with wide eyes as the knife he used to cut vegetables with rose from the basin and began to carve deep into his cutting board. When it seemed the message was complete, the knife clanged back into the sink and an icy wind blasted him from behind, pushing him toward the cutting board.

“Let her go” was written in the wooden plank.

Roy backed away, his heart racing in his chest. He had no idea who could be telling him this. No one knew about Riza but him and the dog. He cried out helplessly, “But I can’t! I love her, I want to save her!”

The wooden plank rose from the counter top and floated toward him. It was as if someone was begging him to let her fire die out or to douse them, anything that would let her rest in peace. Roy put his hands up and continued to back out of the kitchen.

“She means everything to me, please don’t make me put her to death again! Please!” he pleaded. “I love her too much to watch her die a second time! It was my fault she died in the first place! Please, don’t make me let her go!”

The cutting board dropped to the floor, waking Hayate. He raised his head and growled, and the ominous presence that seemed almost tangible was suddenly gone. Roy sat down heavily in one of the dining room chairs and tried to catch his breath. He hadn’t been that afraid in a very long time, and he wondered who was trying to tell him to stop, and why they’d waited so long to tell him.

Hayate wandered over to where Roy sat shivering with fear, and Roy scooped the dog up and hugged him to his chest. “Sorry, buddy. I think Mama’s upset with me, and maybe someone from beyond as well.”

Roy didn’t believe in God, but he couldn’t deny someone had come into his kitchen from the netherworld and made no bones about telling him what he was doing regarding Riza was wrong. In the deepest parts of his heart, his master’s warning still echoed, and there were times he considered letting the fire die out and moving back home with Aunt Chris. But he was so close now. He was on the verge of being able to pull her out, of being able to give her a normal life again.

“Give me one more week,” he spoke to the presence that had come to him earlier. “If I can’t pull her from the flames within seven days…” He paused and took a shuddering breath. “If I can’t do it, I’ll douse the fire and send her to rest.”

Nothing happened. No cutting board message appeared, no sign that the poltergeist had heard his words. Maybe that was for the best, anyway. His heart was still jackhammering inside his chest and he didn’t think he could bear to have contact with the strange specter again so soon.

That night, he ate until he was stuffed, then went to work. He cast spells all over the house, making it fireproof in every place, boarding up every window, and laying logs he’d stockpiled all through the house, making it so Riza could move freely throughout her home.   The only places he didn’t put fuel for her fire were near the kitchen and bathroom, for fear of her dousing her own flames.

He opened her bedroom door, his head hanging like a sad dog, “I’m sorry about earlier,” he said softly.

Hayate walked in and yipped at her and she smiled in spite of herself. “Hayate is a good dog, you should take him with you and go back to your aunt’s tavern.”

Carefully, Roy placed his arms underneath her hearth and sat it on the floor, then stepped out of the room and placed some logs leading out of the hallway up to where she ‘stood’ on the rug. “I think you’ll be able to come downstairs this way. I’m sorry for locking you up, I just didn’t want your fire to go out.” He extended his hand to her. “May I escort you out of here?”

She took his hand, but when he went to step forward, she didn’t come with him. He turned to look at her. “What’s wrong?”

The flames moved closer to his cheek until her hand held his face. “Roy, I love you with all my heart. I appreciate what you’re trying to do for me, but if I could go back to sleep again, I would finally be at peace. I’m not at peace here with you.”

Roy’s eyes welled up with fresh tears. He took a deep breath. “I’m so sorry for everything I’ve done, I ruined our lives and I just wanted to fix everything.”

“I know, my love,” she cooed softly.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this!” he sobbed. “And that damn Kimblee- he hasn’t even answered for his crime! He still gets to live his life, carefree and without any consequences!”

He felt her arms come around him, the fire he was now engulfed in evaporating his tears before they could even fully form. He murmured over and over into the side of her neck that he was so, so sorry- and then something strange happened. She gently pushed him away…

“I’m sorry too, Roy. But this is the only way.”

He watched as her fingers zipped through the air, an array he was unfamiliar with drawing itself in the tongues of fire surrounding her, listening as her voice spoke, “Dough-in to ah-sh.”

Roy’s mouth dropped. ‘Down to Ash’? She’d taken the spell to protect the house off, meaning that the room he found himself in was about to go up in flames.

“Why did you do that!?” he shouted as he grabbed Hayate from the floor and raced down the steps, Riza following him on the path of logs he’d made for her only an hour before. He could hear her voice behind him, chanting spells like ‘Never Wet’ and ‘Quick Shadow’, meaning the flames could not be doused with water and that no one would be able to even see the fire.

“Roy, you know you were supposed to die with us, right?” Riza asked as he sat the dog down and began yanking at the doorknob, trying to escape. He managed to bust one of the window panes in the window just next to the doorjamb, and he carefully tossed Hayate into the grass just beginning to dampen with dew.

“Go find Master MacDougal!” he yelled at the dog, putting ‘Fleet of Foot’ on him as he dashed away.

He turned back to Riza. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but you need to stop this!”

Riza smiled sadly at him. “It’s funny, I tried to say the same thing to you when you first brought me back and I couldn’t speak very well yet.”

Roy began to cough from the smoke. “I thought you weren’t any good at sorcery!” Every spell he tried inside the house didn’t work at all. He stuck his head out of the window where he’d flung Hayate to safety, sucking clean cool air into his lungs, trying to make it rain or something, anything to stop the inferno within the house.

“I’m not good at sorcery. But my _father’s_ a master.”

All at once, Master Hawkeye’s voice roared through the smoke and fire- “What did I say to you about trying to resurrect the dead!? And then you were going to rape her!?”

The house began to creak under the weight of itself, the support beams weakening with every passing minute. Roy had never been more frightened in his life. He flattened out on the floor where the air was a little cleaner and clearer. “I could never rape her! I spoke out of anger when I mentioned that before, I wouldn’t ever have done that to her!”

Riza agreed that she didn’t think he would have either and reminded her father that despite his actions, she still loved him. “Please, father, grant him a peaceful and painless death. Remember how heartbroken we were when mother died? Remember what _you_ tried to do to bring her back to life?”

Roy was sobbing so hard that his nose was clogging up, and the smoke was getting thicker, even down here on the floor. He listened as his former master answered Riza in a gentle voice, agreeing that he knew exactly what kind of pain Roy was in, and that he shouldn’t have to suffer for the mistakes he’d made.

“You’ll see in a moment why you shouldn’t have brought Riza back. Now take a deep breath and close your eyes…”

Roy heard a loud crash above him, and then a second louder one. Then he was engulfed in warmth and the sound of the fire faded out very quickly. Everything was quiet, cool, and calm now… He slowly opened his eyes.

There stood Master Hawkeye, looking exactly the same as he had the last time Roy saw him. His face was sad as he stuck his hand out to him. Roy shook hands with him and looked around. It was like walking around in the real world with dark tinted glasses on. They were watching the house burn to the ground safely by the road. He could see Riza standing in the flames still, and his first instinct was to go to her. Master Hawkeye put his hand on his shoulder.

“She’ll be alright. When the fire has burned out, she’ll join us here.”

“Am I dead?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Roy looked at the house he’d lived in for over five years, realizing that the sounds he heard just before his death were of the roof crashing down to the second floor, and then collapsing to the ground, crushing him under the weight of it all.

“Thank you for making it painless.”

Hawkeye crossed his arms. “Well, death isn’t entirely painless. Your aunt is likely going to hurt for a very long time. Your dog is going to hurt, likely Isaac, too. That’s the thing I’ve discovered about death- it’s never painless.” Then he turned to him with a smile. “I am somewhat proud of you, however.”

“Really?” Roy was sure the man was mistaken, he’d yelled at him for bringing Riza back to life (sort of) and called him a rapist.

“You did what I could not. You raised the dead, and you held the dead in your arms, and she wasn’t a cold corpse. For that- I am impressed. But there’s a reason life only goes one way, and that’s because when you try to bring the dead back to life, you lose yourself in the process. That’s not an even exchange.”

Roy nodded. “It appears that even in death, I am still learning.”

“And I have an entire universe of knowledge to show you.”

They waited for Riza to return to their side of the world before sailing off through the stars, the three of them hand in hand as they soared up into the sky, leaving their mortal ties behind.

 

* * *

 

 

“My, the trees are so lovely this time of year,” Zolf commented as he strolled down the road toward the old Hawkeye estate. He’d heard the place had burned to the ground several months ago, and he wanted to see how the earth was reclaiming the place where it had once stood.

The story of the young sorcerer who died in the fire was music to Kimblee’s ears. It had taken years to finally snuff the brat out, but finally he was gone, the only sign of his body being his half crushed skull and a ring his aunt had given him that had belonged to his father. The few remains were gathered up and buried right next to Miss Hawkeye in the Bolton graveyard, and Kimblee had been all smiles the day of the burial.

He approached the foundation of the house, mostly overtaken by nature now, but still squared off enough to indicate a home had once stood here. The bright red water pump also gave the feeling that it could be rebuilt, though he doubted anyone would want to build a house on a plot of land that had brought a house down twice by fire.

He stepped up to where a rafter lingered, blackened and cracked by the fire that consumed everything. There were also some glass bottles and jars that had survived the intense heat of the blaze scattered along the floor. He gleefully stomped the glassware into large shards with his heavy boots, then poked at the rafter with his walking cane and it disintegrated to the floorboards. “Good riddance,” he said, waving the dust and ashes from his face.

All at once, there was a crack of thunder as lightning struck the tree directly behind him, and a large branch came tumbling down- right on top of Kimblee. It crushed him under its weight, multiple bones broken and crying out painfully.

But when he noticed a puddle of blood forming under his belly, he realized he’d been cut by the glass fragments. He couldn’t move his arms to draw an array, he couldn’t move his jaw to speak the incantation to get the enormous branch off of him, and as he lay there bleeding to death, he began to laugh.

 _“You got the last laugh, didn’t you, Hawkeye?”_ he thought as his vision grew dark and hazy. _“That’s some spell you put on this house…”_

He thought he heard a chuckle on the cool breeze that took his last breath, and he died with a smile on his face.


End file.
